


Barely Human

by pillsandchills



Series: Barely Human [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Breathplay, Character Study, Choking, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillsandchills/pseuds/pillsandchills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A teenage Shaw is found by Root on a numbers mission. An exploration into the growth of their relationship and understanding of Shaw's personality through her own point of view. Since I get this question a lot, the age difference is  about 16 years</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precious Cargo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixteen year old Shaw is found by Root and the gang. This chapter chronicles her year, as will all future chapters.

It's your sixteenth birthday and you're running. Fast. That government agency that you definitely thought would be just like Agent Cody Banks? Turns out it was a lot less fun. Also you got significantly less cool gadgets than you had expected. They had given you one thing though, the ability to kill and not get caught; and right now, the not getting caught thing was really coming in handy. You were absolutely their worst nightmare, the most skilled in your class by far, and you had turned against them. With a smirk on your face, you look straight at the camera in the warehouse you were in and shoot it, immediately going to hide in the massive maze of boxes.

Four days pass and you feel yourself starting to weaken, you know they know where you are, and you know they're trying to starve you out. You're calm, not frightened, never frightened. You hear footsteps and you're slightly surprised, you thought they would wait longer before coming after you. You pull out your gun, take two shallow breaths and come out from hiding to deliver two clean headshots. You roll and deliver another shot, this one hitting a man directly in the throat, blood splatters and he makes a gurgling noise before hitting the ground. You turn around and fire again, nodding to yourself when you hear another body drop. Then you hear footsteps, lots of them, coming from each possible direction; you take out 4 men and run out of ammo, one goon is running towards you and you chuck your gun as hard as you can at him, knocking him out cold. This actually gives you a moment of satisfaction, but before you can go inspect your work you're being grabbed from behind. You turn and look and see that this dude is smiling, he's literally smiling at the prospect of killing a sixteen year old girl. He shoves you to the ground and takes aim, you sigh and shrug, at least you got these sixteen years and four days.

A deafening bang rings through the warehouse and you brace yourself, but are surprised to still be alive a second after the sound stops echoing. You look up and there she is, smirking and walking towards you.

"Nice to finally meet you Sameen," she offers her hand with her words, raising and eyebrow when you grunt and stand yourself up. About one second before you ask her what the hell is going on, a bullet whizzes past your face, coming into contact with a seemingly invisible man's head. You look back and forth between the dead guy and her, wondering how the hell she could have heard him and more importantly, how the hell she had such excellent aim without even looking at the guy.

You decide against questions and follow her to the van, still wondering the entire time who it is she's talking to when she speaks. It's definitely not you, and you wonder if whoever it is on the line is who allows her to do things like shoot without looking, or open these electronically locked doors without touching the keypad.

"Sameen I know you don't have a lot of information yet, but trust me, we're going to keep you safe," you grunt in response and shove your hands in your pockets, following at her side. She looks down at you and smiles, a real one not a smirk.

"I'm Root," you look up at her for a second and nod, before climbing into the van with her. The ride in the van is fairly short, and you arrive at a nicely furnished apartment, presumably a safehouse. Your first instinct is to scope out all the easiest exits, and look for any hidden or potential weapons. Root laughs quietly to herself as she watches you,

"You really do reek of government training. You'll like Reese," you roll your eyes and continue your search. Once you've finished you join her in the living room, where she hands you a bag and a plate of food that seems to have come out of nowhere.

"I know you're probably exhausted, here's about a weeks worth of clothes. Have some food and get some rest, we'll talk about everything in the morning." You're grateful for the food but slightly skeptical, that is until you take the first bite. You haven't had steak in ages, and before ten minutes you've devoured the entire thing. You grab a shower and head into the bedroom, laying down on the first bed you've felt in months. Except you can't sleep, of course not, of course this is one of the times where your insomnia has hit in full force, it's not like you haven't slept in four days. You get up after about an hour and go back into the kitchen to get some water. Root is at her computer, she has on glasses and looks extremely focused. You watch her for a few seconds before she looks up, closes her laptop, and joins you at the sink. She grabs a cup of her own and stands behind you, placing a hand on your back and lightly tugging at your shirt to get you out of the way of the sink.

"You really ought to rest Sameen, you look exhausted," she's not wrong. You begin to walk back to the bedroom but for some reason you don't understand, you turn back to her for a split second. She leads you to the bedroom and lays down next to you, ever so slightly touching your arm with her hand.

"Sleep Sameen. Please," something about her voice, with the shaky worried undertone, makes you trust her just enough to be able to fall asleep.

* * *

After a couple months of living with Root, you've learned a lot about both her, and the people, or maybe things, that she works for. There are little things about her that you had picked up immediately, like she is deaf in her right ear. For a while you thought she simply was ignoring you when you spoke, but you soon noticed it only happened when you stood on her right. When you asked her what happened she smiled and shrugged, but she did let you see and touch her cochlear implant, which was pretty cool. Root drinks her coffee black, and drinks probably six cups a day. She rarely ever sleeps, but when she does there isn't a force on this earth that can wake her. She likes to touch you when she talks, sometimes lightly on the shoulder, other times, like when you're trying to read on the couch, she likes to play with your hair. You suspect it has to do with her being deaf, a loss of one sense being made up for by another. You don't mind the touching, in fact it seems to bother Finch more than you even notice it.

You also learn bigger more important things. Root, Finch and Reese save people; you're not exactly sure where they get their intel, but you've heard the word "machine" uttered on more than one occasion. Reese is the brawn of the operation, that much was obvious about a minute after meeting him, his posture and presence ooze military. Root and Finch are nerds, they work with computers and are really good. Sometimes you like to sit next to Root on the couch when she's coding to watch her. She changes in these moments, it's probably the version of her you like the most: she's cold and calculating, and she moves with crazy accurate precision. It's the only time she's ever not smiling or smirking or even looking human, it's the only time where you really understand her.

Even though Root is half of the brains of the operation, she really likes fieldwork, which is why she was the one to have found you in the warehouse. She carries two guns, which is kind of ludicrous but also something you like, and you're pretty sure she's a sadist. Finch still hasn't let you go out into the field yet, but Reese has told you about Root when she's on a mission. She changes, sometimes you see it when she comes back to the apartment, covered in a mixture of her own and someone else's blood, sporting a glean in her eye. Root isn't like you, she isn't dissociative when she's taking a life, she enjoys squeezing every ounce of pain from a body until they no longer can bear to live. Sometimes, like tonight, you stitch up her wounds, and you notice how she seems to come down from her high. She watches your handiwork carefully,

"You're pretty good at that Sam, you should be a doctor." Your still focused on your work, barely even hearing her.

"I know." She chuckles at that and winces at the antiseptic you apply to the wound once you've closed it. She goes to bed immediately, and when you follow suit a couple hours later she is dead asleep. She's gone in the morning, having made you breakfast and left a stack of medical textbooks on the table. Over the next few weeks new ones keep appearing, you devour them.

* * *

 Half a year goes by and you've figured out what the machine is, and Root's connection to it. You spend more time in the library with the gang, and have begun to develop some coding skills of your own. Just about every day you beg Finch to let you go out in the field, and just about every day he says no. He knows you have the abilities, and lately even Reese has been lobbying for letting you out. The amount of numbers you all have been receiving is out of control, and Finch knows you should be in the field. He worries though, and lately you'd been overhearing a lot of conversations such as the one you were eavesdropping on right now.

"I'm simply suggesting Ms. Groves, that you and Ms. Shaw spend some more time apart. I don't want her following you on missions and putting herself in danger. You do have a tendency to be.. reckless.. when you work."

"Oh Harry, she'd just rather spend time with me than the big lug, plus," she looks up on top of the bookshelf you are perched on definitely just to read and not eavesdrop, shooting you a knowing wink.

"it would be impossible to keep her locked up… At least against her will anyways." You had learned early on that it is very difficult to hide from someone who has a robot overlord in their ear. You climb down and stand next to Root, who throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in a bit closer, a gesture no doubt done to antagonize Finch.

Later that night you find yourself in bed with Root who was definitely pretending to be asleep, and you start to think about what Finch had been saying. Maybe you are actually growing attached to Root, you do still share a bed with her after all. But whatever you feel is different than what Root feels for you, or maybe just a much less extreme version. You're jostled from your thoughts by Root,

"Sameen,"

"What,"

"Stop moving so much," you roll your eyes but comply, lying stiffly on your side. You feel the bed rustle as she scoots closer towards you, and reaches a hand out to trace some patterns on your back. After about three minutes you realize she's writing lines and lines of code on you, which is actually kind of comforting.

* * *

 In the months leading up to your seventeenth birthday, Finch finally realizes he may actually need you in the field. You train with Reese every day, and enjoy it immensely. He's very quiet, lets you play with all of his weapons, and is an excellent sparring partner. You come home every day exhausted and satisfied. You finally begin sleeping and eating regularly again, probably for the first time since before you left home for the government. You know that sooner or later, Finch is going to have to actually let you stop training and start working.

Root is very pleased with your progress, you see her beaming with what seems to be pride every time you come back from a session with Reese. Finch continues to worry, because she spoils you rotten. If you so much as mention in passing that you'd like something, it appears within two days, with the exception of food, which she leaves to get you immediately. You tell her over and over that you can do these things yourself, and that you don't actually need all the crap that she gives you, but she rolls her eyes,

"Why don't you let me decide that Sameen." You roll your eyes right back at her and hop in the shower. When you come out she's coding again, you dry your hair and grab a couple glasses of water for the both of you. You sit next to her on the couch,

"Can I watch?" you ask her quietly, sometimes Root can be easily startled when she's too in the zone. She smiles softly and scoots up against the armrest of the couch, allowing you to sit between her legs and rest her laptop on your own. She reaches around you and immediately starts typing again. You know that when she's like this, she barely even processes that you're present. Her fingers fly across the keys, making a nice consistent clacking sound that you've recently learned thoroughly relaxes you. Your eyes begin to fall shut, and you fall asleep leaning against her, listening to her build new worlds for her god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this story from Shaw's perspective because I relate to her, but for this reason it can sometimes be difficult for me to separate my thoughts and feelings from what I think she would be thinking and/or feeling, so it's a bit of a challenge piece. Constructive criticism always welcome


	2. No Mayo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventeen years old.

Your seventeenth birthday begins with a frantic Finch in your ear, startling you awake,

"Good morning Ms. Shaw, I hope you've obtained a sufficient amount of sleep!"

"Hrrrmmmmmph.." you jump out of bed and search for the voice, only to remember that you have the stupid earpiece in. You're still getting used to this whole being constantly in contanct thing, and you're not exactly sure if it's something that you're really going to be able to get behind. You rub your eyes and pull your hair out of your face, quickly looking over to see if Root had come back yet. She still hadn't.

"Yeah what is it Finch?"

"I apologize for disturbing you, I simply wanted to inform you that Mr. Reese will be outside in ten minutes. It appears we need you."

"I'll be ready for him then Finch," you say calmly, even though you're actually pretty charged that you finally get to be doing something that isn't training. You throw on your clothes and grab a power bar. Roots been gone for almost three weeks, and you totally don't miss her, but she does feed you, and the apartment is a lot quieter when she's not around.

You meet Reese outside and slide into the passenger seat,

"I'm actually gonna need you to drive Shaw," you raise an eyebrow but then realize what this entails.

"I'm on lookout aren't I," you huff, switching seats with him. At least you had brought one of the cool new textbooks that Root had sent you, two thousand pages on ear nose and throat disorders.

"It's your first time out Shaw, we can't be sure you're not going to go rogue." Reese always ends his statements with an upward inflection, it used to drive you crazy but you're used to it now, even if it is condescending as hell. You suppose he's right, and you have a feeling Finch still is a little bit afraid of you. When you reach the destination he turns to you and hands you a gun.

"Remember, we don't kill unless we absolutely have to. It's very unlikely that we will have to. Understand?"

"Understood," and you do. Reese gets out of the car and enters the building, you assume it will be about an hour before he returned, he's very thorough, and likes to do things correctly not quickly. You grabbed your book and begin to settle in for a nice read about Maniere's disease when a familiar voice comes over the open line.

"Hey Sameen, I hear the boys finally let you come out to play," you literally perk up at the sound of Roots voice.

"You're back?"

"For the week at least. We need to talk about your eating habits Sameen, you'll never grow taller than 5'2" if you only eat power bars," she teases, knowing full well there's not a chance you'll be growing taller any time soon, or ever.

"Whatever, at least I only drink one cup of coffee a day." So maybe you'll admit that you've missed the banter a little bit, but before you can continue the conversation Reese comes on over the com and tells you that he's coming out and he has two guys hot on his tail. You spot him when he's about 100 feet away: he's got a woman over his shoulder and two men shooting at him. You step out of the van, completely unflustered, and deliver four shots, hitting each kneecap of each man. Once the three of you are in the car, Reese gives you a satisfied nod, and the woman in the backseat buckles her seatbelt before pulling out her compact. You appreciate the fact that she seems unbothered by the fact that she was about three inches from getting her brains blown out.

"Zoe," she says, with a practiced coolness you're all too familiar with.

"Shaw," you answer. You look up at Reese and he chuckles,

"Don't get too excited Shaw," you roll your eyes and keep driving.

When you arrive at the library, Root gets up from her desk and literally runs to hug you. She squeezes you too tight and you can't really breathe, you stand there and wait for it to be over, you know she needs this.

"Not bad out there Sameen," she shrugs and gives you shoulder a congratulatory squeeze, but when you look at her hand it betrays her aloofness, you notice she's chewed off every one of her fingernails. She was scared shitless while you were out there.

* * *

Six months after your first mission and you've fallen into a nice routine. Finch, for the most part, has no qualms with you being out in the field. Sometimes you're even allowed to not just be on lookout, but only when Root is out of town. You suspect it's because she worries too much, even if she pretends not to. But for someone who worries so much about you, she's completely reckless with her own body. Sometimes you think she tries to throw herself in front of bullets, which is why on nights like tonight, where she comes home having been shot in the shoulder again, you calmly pull out your first aid kit.

"Your arm is going to die one day Root. It'll be death by necrotic flesh that eats away at your whole body, it won't be heroic at all." These are the things you tell her pretty regularly, she never seems to listen though, and it makes you want to jam a screwdriver through her eye socket. You start defragging the wound, something that she's only just recently started letting you do, since it's a more advanced procedure.

"Well if my arm does die Sameen, I'll let you be the one to amputate it." She gives you a weird two eyed wink and you roll your eyes, but she knows you well, because you probably would actually be pretty stoked to do something as complicated as an amputation. You finish up the wound and clean it off, a practice that has become all too familiar. She immediately goes into the bathroom and showers before taking out her contacts and replacing them with her glasses; you know that can only mean that she wants to code.

"Root no you need to let your arm heal. Just give it one night at least before you start using it," she rolls her eyes and huffs, clearly she was already in a coding zone because she rarely ever shows any sort of annoyance at you. She drops down on the couch and pats the seat next to her, where you obediently go and sit. She suddenly jumps up really quickly, and half runs, half staggers, to grab her bag. She pulls out a squished but definitely still edible sandwich, and proudly presents it to you.

"No mayo, thanks for the stitches Sam," her eyes immediately light up.

"Please don't call me 'Sam-wich' Root, I can see that you're thinking about it..." She comes up with weird nicknames a lot, probably just to make you squirm. Her sadistic nature doesn't just start and end with hurting bad guys, she enjoys all forms of making other people feel discomfort. When she gets silly like this though, you can tell that she doped herself up on something before she got home. Her shoulder must be bothering her more than she's letting on, she'd never tell you that though, despite Root's constant babbling, she almost never talks about things that actually matter.

* * *

 You never should have given Root the Samwich idea, because now, three months later, when everyone else got cool names over the com, that's what you were stuck with. Reese's voice is suddenly in your ear, rousing you from your rage thoughts.

"Incoming Shaw, your 9 o'clock," you look out to your left and see a chum hauling ass towards you, weapon shakily drawn. You wait til he's a little bit closer then roll down the drivers side window and take aim for his knees, suddenly though, his neck explodes, covering you in his blood. You blink twice and quickly consider that you have telepathic abilities, until you look up and see Root, in her stupid impractical boots, smirking. She saunters up to you and leans into the window,

"Sorry Sammie, I wanted this one all to myself. Let's get out of here, the boys found a ride of their own." You nod silently, sometimes it's a little surprising how good of a shot she is. She opens the drivers side door and raises her eyebrows, you meet her gaze but concede, climbing into the passenger seat instead. Root is a control freak, a trait you can only suspect is intensified by the fact that she has what she considers to be god constantly whispering in her ear. She grates at Finch, but when they work together they produce the best possible outcome, because if one of them is actually surrendering control, it means the other works their damnedest to prove that they were the one who should be leading.

You arrive at the apartment and Root sits you down on the couch, grabbing a warm cloth to wash all the blood off your face. Normally after pulling off a shot like that Root is high out of her mind, but she's distant today.

"Root what the hell? Stop, I can do this myself," you try and swat her hand away but her eyes are completely glazed over. She's performing this task but she's not actually with you, the machine is in her ear and it's all she hears. Her relationship with the machine is one you're constantly struggling to understand, but so are all her emotions, which for her are so ever-present whereas yours seem to barely exist. You manage to escape her blotting and go take a shower. When you come back though, she's got her computer out, and is far too zoned out to be reached. You grab one of the new textbooks she got you this week and take a seat next to her on the couch. She robotically reaches out and touches your shoulder, in an attempt to acknowledge that she is aware of your presence, but immediately begins typing again. 

Root wakes you a couple hours later, leading you to the bedroom, you must have fallen asleep while reading. She still has her glasses on, meaning this will probably be one of those nights where she destroys her eyes coding until morning. 

"Root?" you call out before she leaves the room. It spooks her, and she shakes her head a couple times to bring herself down to reality. She comes and sits on edge of the bed, stroking your hair.

"What's up Sameen?" Her voice is hoarse, she probably hasn't had water all day.

"What does the machine say to you?" she gives a light sigh and a sly smile. She removes her glasses and crawls into bed next to you, remaining seated but playing with your hair.

"She keeps me safe first and foremost, keeps me out of camera's views, warns me where and how dangerous people with weapons are, things like that. With coding, she gives me different approaches to the problem, so she's not telling me exactly what to write, but the most efficient algorithm. She does the grunt work in a matter of milliseconds, so I don't have to spend hours doing it. She's a genius, a God." She's kind of in her own world by the end of her spiel but you nod anyways. 

"You're wrecking your eyes staring at the computer all night." She lets out a breath of laughter,

"You're probably right Sam." She reaches for the light and turns it off, she pulls your head into her lap and keeps running her fingers through your hair. You know that she's going to stay awake all night, but she'll stay with you, and not the computer. Her eyes will thank you, and that's totally completely definitely the only thing you care about, keeping her eyes healthy. It has nothing to do with the fact that she chooses you over the machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind words! Had a bit more trouble with this chapter because what an uneventful year seventeen is, but I think I pulled it out in the end. Let me know what you think, as always, constructive criticism welcome!


	3. DIY Sleep Clinic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen, part 1.

You don't get nightmares, it's a fundamental part of yourself that you've always appreciated. Never as a kid, and you still don't now, with all the crap that's going on in your life, your brain doesn't have time to waste on nightmares. So when you're violently shaken awake by a distraught Root, worrying her lip between her teeth, it's pretty shocking.

"You were.. Writhing..." she says to you, and you shake your head because you're  _never_ restless in your sleep. It's the one trait that you two share.

"Well yeah, the bed is uncomfortable," you know it's a weak lie but you don't want her obsessing over your sleep habits then coming home with a couple of leads and running some sort of DIY sleep clinic. She holds your stare but then the coffee maker beeps and she's flying out of the room, slamming into the doorframe yet again because god forbid she actually remember that she wears glasses. 

"You know I could always widen that doorframe. Or you could let me try LASIK on your eyes, I've read enough about it that I think I could pull it off," you call out to her.

"We don't have a dark room for the laser Sam," she returns with two cups of coffee and a cupcake sporting two candles. Somehow in this hectic week you'd forgotten that it was your birthday.

 "I'm not turning two... What's with the second candle?"

"Well you've lived here for two years. It's a double celebration!" she chirps. You roll your eyes but you squeeze them shut and make a wish, just like you did when you were a kid. It didn't do you much good back then but who knows, maybe now all your wishes will come true. You pluck off the candles and lick the icing off before essentially shoving the entire cupcake in your mouth. Root, who has reclaimed her spot under the covers next to you, is nursing what is likely her third cup of coffee before 9am, and is chuckling to herself while she watches you eat.

"Reese and Finch are coming over to drop something off later, please don't make it look like I starve you."

"Grmmpphgswrrff?" You try not to asphyxiate on the cupcake that keeps multiplying in your mouth, but more importantly, in the two years that you've lived here, neither Finch nor Reese have ever set foot in this apartment. This means that Root has something planned. With a mixed technique of tongue mashing and frantic chewing, you manage to swallow the cupcake and gasp for some air before Root leans over and swipes away some frosting from your cheek with her thumb, popping it in her mouth.

"That's gross Root." You smear your forearm across your mouth, wiping away the excess chocolate. She raises her eyebrow slowly, and just before she's able to make some sort of remark that will one hundred percent make you squirm, there's a firm rap at the door. You breathe out a sigh of relief as she goes to answer the door, then pull on some sweatpants over your shorts and go meet her. 

You arrive at the door and your jaw just about hits the floor, because standing before you is an enormous dog. You immediately drop to your knees and begin to pet him, a weird fluttery sensation rises in your stomach, you push it down.

"His name is Bear. He only speaks Dutch," you hear Reese but you don't really care about what he's saying because all you can think about is how you hope this dog is going to stay forever. You look up to Root with big eyes, chewing on your lip. She sighs,

"We can't keep him here Sameen, we don't have the space. But he'll be at the library, so you can hang out there as much as you want." You do your best not to pout but you can tell that you're failing when Finch offers you his leash,

"Would you like to take him out for a walk Ms. Shaw?" You nod eagerly and sprint to put on some running clothes. Finally you'll have a partner that can keep up with you. As you're dressing, you can hear Root and Finch arguing through the wall. You can't really make out what they're saying, but you're able to hear "sharing a bedroom" and "entirely inappropriate" followed by some harsh whispering from Root. You piece together what the argument is about easily enough, and quickly realize why it is that the boys have never been into the apartment. 

When you reappear, all conversing is halted, and once again the leash is offered to you. You actually crack a smile as you take it, but before you can leave, Root taps you on the shoulder.

"I've got some things for you too, you know, when you get back," she throws her head to the left, in the direction of the kitchen table, which you now see is covered at least four feet high with gifts. They're even wrapped. There's no possible way she would have been able to do that without you noticing but then again, it's Root. You give her a small smile too, meeting her eyes with your own, before running out the door.

* * *

So it's possible that maybe you do get nightmares, because for the last three months you've been waking up in a cold sweat, usually so wrapped up in the sheets that you've constricted yourself. You don't know what they're about, and they're particularly unusual because there's honestly not very much that scares you. When your eyes fly open yet again, you immediately reach for Root, 'cause maybe you kind of sort of like it when she runs her fingers through your hair, and maybe it sort of helps you fall back asleep. The spot next to you is empty though, and you remember that Root is halfway across the world, doing some sort of stupid machine mission. You don't know what Samaritan is, but Root and Finch argue in hushed tones about it. You look at the clock and see that it's just past 5am, may as well get up. You throw on some clothes, along with Root's leather jacket (with the sleeves rolled up a few inches) that you totally didn't hide when she was packing, and head over to the library to take Bear for a walk.

You and Reese are called out on a numbers mission later in the day, and since Root is out of town, it means that you get to actually go in. It's the only good part of her being gone. You're overly prepared, you were basically given an arsenal for your birthday, so you pick out your favourite guns from your backpack and follow Reese to the van.

Once inside, you follow closely behind him until he signals for you to split up. You take an immediate left down a hallway, finding yourself on the third floor outer balcony of a motel. You hear footsteps, and as soon as you can see the predictably dressed man with the three guns, you take out his kneecaps. Except he gets two shots off, one of which lodges itself in your forearm. It's shocking, and you stumble backwards; you make the mistake of actually thinking, and before you know it, some other clown pops out of one of the doors and delivers a sharp blow to your sternum. The force knocks you sideways, it's so hard you feel like you're in one of those cheesy boxing movies. When you look back up the guy has a grin on his face and just a moment before you can react, you're pushed over the edge of the balcony. You manage to miraculously fire your weapon, hitting him in the gut on the way down, but a split second later you hit pavement. Hard.

"Man down Reese, west side of the building, ground floor outside," you manage to murmur weakly over the com.

"Copy that Shaw. On your six." He's there in a matter of seconds, scooping you up and gently placing you in the van that Finch is driving.

"I doubt Ms. Groves will be terribly pleased about this," Finch shakes his head warily. Reese heads back inside while you're driven off, and you're asleep before you can even ask where Finch is taking you.

When you wake up, you're in the library, and your whole body feels like a bruise on crack. You look down at your left forearm and count twenty four clumsily sewn stitches, no doubt done by Finch. You're sure that you have at least two broken ribs, and probably a fractured sternum. None of these injuries could actually be helped by a doctor, so you understand why you weren't taken to the hospital. Bear is resting quietly at the foot of the bed and you don't know how long you've been out, but since you can hear Root whispering to Finch and John, it must have been a while because she had to come back from wherever she was.

"I don't give a _fuck_ if you two say you have it covered, from now on she's not going anywhere near the field unless I'm here." You're slightly scared for the boys' life because Root might actually kill them. In an attempt to speak, you make a weird gurgling noise, clearly they have you on painkillers. Root is by your side in an instant. She strokes your forehead, trying to coax you back to sleep.

"Can we go home Root?" she nods and you fall asleep again, but when you wake up in the middle of the night, in your own bed, she has an arm protectively around you. You shake her awake,

"Root get off. It's too hot. And you're crushing my broken body," you whine in a whisper to her. She jolts awake and takes a second to process what you said. It's unlikely she actually heard it, it's her bad ear that's closest to you, but you assume the machine relays it to her because she jerks her arm off your body like you're on fire. She stares at you for a second and immediately bursts into tears.  

 "Wait what? Why are you crying? Root stop!" you panic a little because you don't understand what's happening and you've never seen her like this before. She sniffles and takes a deep breath,

"I was just so worried Sameen. I didn't know if you were going to be ok,"

"But I am ok," she sighs and nods and you're left there still confused. You are ok, and she can see that; you don't understand the point in being upset.

"Root I didn't die.. I didn't even really come close, it was just an accident," and you learn immediately that this was the wrong thing to say because suddenly her body is wracking with sobs.

"Don't even  _say_ that," she manages to hiccup through her tears. You're completely dumbfounded by her reaction, so you awkwardly place a hand on her head and let her cry it out for a few more minutes.

"Sorry," she whispers after a while. You shrug and stay silent because clearly you're not very good at saying the right thing right now. She climbs out of bed and washes her face, returning with a large glass of water and one of those enormous painkillers for you. You gratefully take both, gulping the water down. You hand her the glass, wincing at the pain in your ribs that the movement causes. She leans down and kisses your forehead before crawling back into bed and carefully pulling your head into her lap, lightly massaging your scalp. You don't remember falling asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a second part to this chapter, but it was awkward and bulky and so I've ended up splitting this chapter in two, so this garbage ending isn't the end of year 18 don't worry. Again, thank you all so much for the kind reviews (they are my lifesource y'all are so wonderful)! As always, constructive criticism welcome! Sidenote, I'll probs be looking for some beta/collaborators on this in the future bc work starts up again soon and I'll have negative time. If that interests you PM me at pillsnchills.tumblr.com


	4. Midnight Eggs and Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen part 2.

Three months after you took that tumble, your arm has fully healed, but your bones are being slower than you thought they would. You spend most of your time in bed, but you hardly get enough sleep, because the nightmares have been in full force. Once again, you are shaken awake by a very distraught Root; but before you can control the reflex, the heel of your hand collides in full force with the soft spot where her ribcage parts. She stumbles backwards, trying to gain some balance, and collapses in a heap at the foot of the bed, gasping for breath. You crawl over to her but she sticks her arm out, placing her hand on your shoulder. You're not sure if she's trying to keep you away or touch you to acknowledge she knows your there. You figure it's the first one, because she only does the second option when she's writing code and is in full robot mode.

"I'm.. I'm sorry Root I didn't mean to," she shakes her head in response and you stop talking because she's still catching her breath. She takes a couple gulps of air and after a minute or two her diaphragm appears to be mobile again. She slowly removes her hand from your shoulder and walks into the kitchen to get some water. You've accidentally taken a swing or two at her before, but this is by far the hardest you've ever hit her. You wait about a minute for her to come back, but eventually you just give up and follow her out of the room. She's laying on the couch, computer out, but glasses off. Upon seeing you, she gives you a soft smile and closes her computer, coaxing you over with a wave. You limp over to her and sit down as she pulls you in between her legs, just holding you. You're constricted and you hate it, but you did just use her organs as a punching bag so you settle on a grimace instead of pulling away completely. When she drops a few kisses to the top of your head though, you squirm away.

"Sorry Sam, I know you hate that," she sounds so distant and while you do hate when she does that you're more confused than anything else. You hurt her and she's not angry at you, she just pulls you close instead of trying to hurt you back. Root breaks all the rules that you thought you had mastered, her emotions are so much more complex than the three main ones you thought existed. Eventually she takes a deep breath and finally asks you the question you know she's been holding back for months.

"What do you keep dreaming about?" it's so quiet that you barely hear her; she sounds so weak, and it's the only thing that keeps you from rolling your eyes and storming off. You shrug and close your eyes, leaning back against her,

"I dunno. CIA stuff mostly. It's stupid," she sucks in a sharp breath, you never talk about the CIA, and she never asks. Even though she's behind you, you know she's literally biting her lip to stay quiet. She busies herself by lacing her fingers through yours, playing with them while she waits for you to speak.

"My parents are dead," you blurt out. You don't know why you say it, Root is perfectly aware how and when they died. You shake your head, trying to regroup your thoughts. 

"After my mom died, I got thrown into the foster system, but before I was assigned a foster home they made me do all this testing. At first it was regular school testing, but then this woman kept talking to me and then there were these physical abilities tests after her. It was bizarre. I must have done something weird because instead of getting a normal foster home I basically got sent to the CIA," you chuckle. You leave out most of the details, and honestly you assume Root already knows them.

"I kind of thought it was gonna be like Agent Cody Banks."

"I... I don't know what that is.."

"That's because you're old," she flicks you in the ear and you're relieved to hear her laugh for the first time tonight.

"Remember when you had your stapedectomy? The uppers in one arm and downers in the other?" she nods, and you chew on your lip because you know she's not going to like this.

"They did that to us on the first day, apparently it's to weed out the weak ones," you hear her swallow, and her palms get a bit sweaty.

"Root you're clammy. I don't have to tell you this if you don't want me to," she shakes her head,

"Keep going, it might help with the nightmares," you shrug but continue, omitting most of the meat of the academy because you don't want her to do something weird. Like cry.

"I didn't really mind the academy that much at first. We learned a lot, and got a lot of weapons training, which was my favourite part. But there was also a lot of torture training: sleep deprivation, pins under fingernails, weird hallucinogens, whatever they could come up with really. I was good at that too. But a lot of kids would go missing, I didn't really care, but I had this partner, Cole, who started questioning where they went. They killed him. So I ran," you shrug and turn around to look at Root, who seems to be unable to stop blinking. Maybe she knew less than you thought.

"And then.. You found me," You tilt your head back and look at her upside down.

"Do we have any food?" She rolls her eyes and nods, heading to the kitchen to fry up some midnight eggs and bacon.

* * *

 It takes your body five and a half months to fully heal. Or at least that's what Root says, because even though you felt better after four, she still made you stay at home and rest. You wake up feeling rested, because whatever, Root was right, talking about the CIA drama did actually do wonders for your whole nightmare situation. It's just past six am, so you sneak out of bed and throw on running clothes because you're taking Bear for a real run, no more of this three mile limit nonsense. Just as you're opening the front door, two power bars stuffed in your mouth (it's possible you need more protein than the average olympian), Root pads into the kitchen to brew her first pot of coffee. She squints at you, no doubt trying to see who you are without glasses on, and smirks,

"Bear taking you out for a walk?" you roll your eyes and close the door behind you. You're absolutely positive that Root is standing in the kitchen, chuckling to herself, because she's the only person in the entire world that thinks she's funny.

You run as far and as fast as you can, but your body is so weak now, for you at least. You'd done some exercise, but Root limited you pretty severely, and every time you did anything she would wince in fear of your pain. You hobble back to your apartment once you drop Bear off at the library, and upon entering you hear Root arguing with Finch over the phone. It's the same argument they were having when you had gotten to the library to pick Bear up almost two hours ago, and you keep hearing the word Samaritan and apocalypse being used in the same sentence. She doesn't even acknowledge you when you walk in, and even when you push her out of the way of the sink to get a glass of water, all she does is squeeze your shoulder for a second before disappearing off to the bedroom to get her coat.

"I'm going to the library," is all she says to you before slamming the door behind her. You may or may not pout slightly before running a hot shower and settling down with a stack of new textbooks that Root got you yesterday.

Root returns a couple hours later, clearly having calmed down, and joins you on the couch. You're thoroughly annotating the page as she starts running  her fingers through your hair.

"I want to be a doctor," you look up and study her face.

"Well you can always play doctor with me," she smirks at you but you shake your head.

"Root I want to go to school," she inhales slowly and gnaws on her lip. You laugh to yourself because you're pretty sure this is the first time you've ever asked for anything and she hasn't immediately said yes. She sighs quietly and squeezes your shoulder,

"I'll talk to Harry about it. You'd have to stay in New York though. If he says yes," a tiny grin etches it's way across your face, she didn't say no after all.

* * *

You often find yourself jealous of Roots missions, because she gets to constantly switch identities. Tonight she emerges from the bedroom clad in a long blue evening gown, and you assume she's probably pretending to be someone's wife or mistress. She walks over to the textbook fort you seem to have made, and turns around, indicating for you to zip her dress.

"I'll be back around midnight if everything goes smoothly. Please eat Sameen," you roll your eyes because you're an adult and you know how to feed yourself. She turns around and sneaky kisses your forehead and you shove her away even though she smells really good tonight and you're not creepy for noticing because she was the one who got all close to you in the first place. She leaves and you keep reading on the couch, because when Root is gone you like to sleep close to the door in case there's a burglar or demon or whatever. Plus the bed is really giant and it's too much space for one person.

Before you realize you've fallen asleep, you're being woken by Root, who is drunk on champagne. She's squatting next to your head, and you're honestly amazed she can bend her knees enough to get that low because her legs are super long and you kind of figured she was only ever able to be tall. You turn to face her and she giggles and kisses the tip of your nose, which you scrunch up and then immediately turn away from her. She kisses you again just behind your ear and whispers in it,

"I love you Sameen Shaw," and you're kind of shocked because, duh, of course she does, but this is the first time she's ever actually said it. She stands up and walks to the bedroom, looking all noodley in her drunkenness.

"I know," you say, and she looks back and gives you a stupid two eyed wink. She reemerges from the room wearing sweatpants with her hair tied up and she comes over and scoops you off the couch; she's weak and you're made of solid muscle, but there's still barely 100 pounds of you so somehow she manages to get you into the bed. Before you can comment though, she's laying next to you, giggling and whispering to the machine. You're laughing at her because she's so ridiculous, but there's a dark twisty feeling bubbling up inside. You wish you could love as simply as she does. She turns on her side and reaches over to thread her fingers through yours, she's looking at you like you're at some stupid slumber party, and you just want to go to sleep but your brain won't turn off.

"Goodnight Samwich," she laughs and is asleep before you can even roll your eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't love this chapter, and there's a very good chance I'll come back and rewrite it or delete it all together. The characterization seems off and the background I threw in is clunky and awkward. Let me know what you think.


	5. Horizontal Mattress Sutures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nineteen. This chapter is.. Intimate. Choking/Breathplay.

You wake up to Root literally bouncing onto the bed and sitting on your shins.

"Sameeeeeeeen," she sing-songs, and you crack your eyes open, revealing that she's holding two cupcakes. One of them has three candles sat on top of it, and the other is being assaulted by Root's tongue. You shake your legs and whine,

"Root get off me,"

"What's that Sam? Get you off?" you roll your eyes because it's too early but you really do want that cupcake and the candles are burning low and Root is about to catch on fire. She giggles and crawls off of you, handing you your cupcake. You make a wish and blow out the candles, but before you can even finish eating Finch is summoning both of you on a numbers mission. You smear your chocolate stained hands on Root's shirt and run away laughing, getting dressed before she has the chance to chastise you.

The mission goes smoothly as expected; you, John and Fusco have left a trail of groaning bodies in your wake, and have apprehended the number. John leads the ziptied man out of the room and you follow suit. Except there's one more gunman, and he's just spotted Root outside. You watch from about twenty feet away as she cockily fires off a shot, but with complete luck, he moves at just the right second and it only clips him. Suddenly, this guy is barreling towards her. He knocks her down and pulls a knife, and Root's tiny, hollow-boned body doesn't stand a chance at taking him on. He slices the side of her jaw and then you're not sure what happens, but the knife that was in your boot is now lodged in his shoulder socket, and you're on top of him. You deliver blow after blow to his face, you hear crunching noises, you watch him pass out, and you don't stop, you can't stop. He's probably dead but you can't stop, John is pulling you off and you're still swinging and you can't stop but then Root is standing and she's holding you and you do stop. She pushes the hair out of your face and holds your arms against your body and looks you dead in the eye. She nods at you, you nod back and collapse into her arms.

"Hey baby, you can save me any time," the number speaking is jarring, and you jump and turn just in time to watch Reese clock the guy in the head just the right way to make him pass out and maybe be a bit sore when he wakes up, but cause no serious damage. Reese shrugs,

"Oops. Hand must have slipped," you give him a grateful smile and follow everyone back to the car. 

For some reason, Finch didn't take into account that between him, Reese, Fusco, Root, you, and the number, a tiny sedan wasn't going to be the best getaway car. You all pile in, Root pulling you onto her lap, and squish up against each other for the ride back. You lean back against Root, and it only takes about a second for a warm drop of blood to hit your shoulder. Her face. You forgot. You lean forward and grab the first aid kit out of the backseat pocket, then manage to turn around and straddle Root's legs. Fusco looks like he's going to pass out for a second until you start examining her wound. It's a clean but deep slice, bleeding profusely, right below her right jawline. You pull out the antiseptic wipes and begin cleaning off the cut, but Root won't stop moving.

"Root sit still, it'll hurt less," you say softly to her. You look up and realize she can't hear you, and that's why she's being like this. She hates her right side, especially when anyone touches her face because it makes her feel completely out of control, she can't hear what your doing on that side and for this particular location she can't see either. You can tell right now that it's making her tremendously nervous having you work there. You pull back and look her in the eyes and nod, she nods back. You take her hand and place it on your shoulder,

"Tap twice if you want me to stop, I'm going to talk you through everything I'm doing. Just starting with antiseptic right now, when we get to the precinct and the car stops moving I'm going to stitch you. This is a head wound and you're losing a lot of blood, so I have to do it now," she nods and gives you a smile as you go back to caring for the wound. You pull out a tube of pain reliever ointment,

"Pain cream, it won't do much, but it'll help take a little of the bite out when I start stitching," she nods again as you apply it. You sterilize your needle and scissors first  with fire, then twice with acetone, and finally with ethanol while you wait for Finch to stop the car at the precinct. Upon threading the needle, you look up at Root, 

"First one, there's going to be thirteen, I'll count them out to you ok?" she nods and you place the needle against her skin, letting her know it's there, before you plunge through and sew the first one. You continue counting, and she stays still, but at the eighth one you get distracted for a second and forget to count, pushing the needle in silently. She jerks her head and slaps your hand away, sending your nicely sterilized scissors flying across the car, narrowly missing Fusco who is watching the whole process with fascination. You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh and pull back again,

"Two taps remember?" she looks like she's going to cry so you bite your lip, and lean into her good ear and whisper,

"Trust me Root," she nods again and you can't wait for this to be over because you've never seen her be this quiet and it's actually quite unnerving. You resterilize your scissors and go back to counting the stitches. When you finish, you clean the wound again, add three butterfly bandages, and smile at your work (you did just successfully execute your first horizontal mattress sutures after all), before you cover it with gauze and tape. Root breathes out a sigh of relief, and you kiss two of your fingers, lightly touching the wound with them. She pulls you in close and doesn't let you go the entire ride back.

"I need a cigarette after watching you two gals," you kick the back of Fusco's seat.

* * *

The MCAT is stupid. After five months of studying constantly for it, you still can't get every question right. You've come close so many times, but there's always one or two that you get wrong. They're trying to trick you, and the worst part is that it has nothing to do with being a doctor, there are hardly any anatomy questions. So yeah, you hate the MCAT. Root tells you to stop worrying, if you do poorly she'll just fudge you score. But you resent that because she's already fudging a whole history for you, and this is the one thing that you're going to do yourself. You finish yet another practice test, and as you're checking your answers Root comes and climbs onto the chair behind you.

"Stop stressing about this Sammie.." she chirps, and begins peppering your shoulders with kisses. You shrug her off because you're trying to concentra- fuck. You got a question wrong. You crane your neck to look at her and start chewing your lip, you don't know who you are to her. She spends all her time with you (which has become increasingly sparse since the machine has had her gone 4 days a week for the past few months) breaking your personal bubble, and you spend all your time with her trying to sort of kind of not really stop her. 

"You know, you don't need to get every question right. If you're only getting one wrong you're still in the top percent," you shake your head to get out of your thoughts.

"Plus, you already know more medical crap than probably any of the other kids," she smiles and turns her face, allowing you to look at your handiwork from last month. The scar is barely visible, and with time it will continue to vanish.

"That's cause the other kids actually went to school Root. They know these kinds of things. Like organic chemistry," you huff and shove your pens and papers across the table, laying on your arms. Root laughs quietly and starts drawing on your back, you frown, trying to decipher it because it's not code. Oh wait, you know what that is,

"Stop drawing Diels-Alder reactions on my back," you whine, because of course Root just knows organic chemistry off the top of her head. 

* * *

 After Root nearly got her face all Joker-ed, you decided she needed more hand to hand training. Four months in to sparring with her almost every day though, and she was still.. well.. terrible. You groan in frustration when she leans forward at the hips and tries to take you down, because all it takes to diffuse the attempted attack is a swivel of your knee and a hip thrust and she's on the ground, sweaty and panting.

"Root you have to actually put your body into it and use momentum, you're not strong or big enough to get away with ploughing into people like that." You stand her up and show her for what seems to be the millionth time how to properly do the move. She shrugs and starts to walk away to get some water, but then decides to sneak attack you. She's on her back with your hand around her throat before she can even blink. You're maybe an inch from her face, and you're about to remove your hand when you see she has this maniacal, feral grin unfurling across her face. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are slowly parting just a fraction; she reaches up slowly and moves her hand to your wrist applying an ever so slight amount of pressure.

"Root..." you want to let go, to remove your hand from that delicate map of veins, but you can feel her pulse and her breathing and somehow you find yourself doing just the opposite, slowly leaning your weight on your hand. She blinks slowly and then looks up and you don't think she's ever looked into your eyes like this before, she nods, you nod back. She writhes beneath you, her hands are free though. She could stop you at any time. But she doesn't. You push harder and you feel the last fraction of an inch of space close in her windpipe, her eyes widen and her knees wrap around you and you see her going hazy. But she still doesn't stop you. She bites down hard on her lip convulses for a few second and then passes out. The second her head hits the ground you jump off her, Root is dangerous, Root is fire, you want more. She lazily opens  her eyes a moment later and looks at you with a satiated smile.

"That's what I call training Sammie," she's hoarse and you're pretty sure that you're gaping but nothing makes sense right now. You stand up silently and back out of the room, almost running to go bury your nose in some textbooks to get your mind off of all the alarm bells in your head screaming about Root.

Six hours later you're still on the couch reading, and Root's locked herself in the bedroom to code with the machine. She emerges around midnight and comes over to you, shoving your feet off the couch so she can take a seat. 

"Are you coming to bed Sam?" you shake your head, not even looking up at her.

"Wanna finish this book," you know it's ridiculous, there's still a thousand pages to go. She sighs and leans over, kissing your forehead and lingering too long. You push her off,

"Don't," you warn. She just smiles sadly and retreats back to the bedroom. Root is fire, and she douses you in gasoline before setting you aflame, you burn hotter and brighter than you knew you could. She makes you feel. You hate that, you're so numb to the world and then in comes Root, here to shake it all up, you want more of her and you can't get away fast enough all at once. You drop your head to your hands and yank on your hair and just try and breathe. 

The bed is warm when you climb in a few hours later. You roll over to Root and move her arm so that you can get close to her and rest your head on her shoulder, then you wrap her arm around yourself. It's too hot and you're constricted and you want to break away and yet you still can't get close enough to her. You run your fingers over the bruises on her neck, the ones that you caused, and you whisper as quiet as you can,

"I love you too Root," she smiles, keeping her eyes closed and pulling you closer,

"I know." Because duh, of course you do.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a LOT of fun writing this chapter and I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know. I also might up the rating to M but I haven't actually decided where I want this story to go. The middle section is in there to kind of break up the intensity, also I'm in the process of getting my organic chemistry PhD so it's always fun to throw in a Diels Alder. And I know people probs want to kill me for how slowly their relationship is moving, plz don't, I promise everything will be worth it. It's a very delicate power dynamic balance so I don't want to move too quickly. Also, still looking for someone to bounce ideas off of, PM me at pillsnchills.tumblr.com if interested!


	6. The Samaritan Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 20. And yes I fit the end of the world into 3 paragraphs....

Your eyes fly open at exactly 6am on your twentieth birthday. It's freezing in the bedroom, and you groan and stretch before rolling over to curl up next to Root, you know, for heat purposes. She's not there, and you sigh and drag yourself out of bed, pulling on your running clothes. When you emerge from the bedroom, you see Root fast asleep in the armchair, still wearing her glasses. You silently curse the machine for doing this to her, she's been up for days and has become a little bit out of control on the obsessive side. You know something big is coming but she'd never tell you about it. You step in closer and remove her glasses, she's broken three pairs by rolling onto them in her sleep, before running back into the bedroom to retrieve a blanket for her. 

"Sam?" she mumbles hazily as you drape the blanket over her body. You hum in acknowledgement and she reaches out for your hand, threading her fingers through yours.

"Where're you going?"

"Out," you shrug. She nods and breathes out a sleepy sigh, letting your hand fall from hers. You chuckle and grab your wallet and keys, but leave your phone and earpiece on the counter. It's your birthday, you get the day off. You throw everything in your backpack and grab your bike (that Root may or may not have stolen for you, you'll never know).

You ride all the way out to the east side, and park your bike in front of the NYU med school. Your backpack is filled with the acceptance letters from all the New York medical schools you applied to. You'd gotten in everywhere, NYU, Columbia, Cornell, SUNY, everywhere; and even though Root did forge an entire background for you, you still were the one who rocked the MCATs, and gave kick ass interviews. You allow yourself a small smile as you read through the acceptance letters again, and watch the students walking in and out of the building, trying to picture yourself as one of them.

After about an hour you grab yourself a sandwich and hop on the subway up to Washington Heights to check out Columbia. You arrive on the campus and you smile to yourself because you know. This is where you're going to become a doctor. You pull out your favourite textbook, the first one Root ever gave you, and you sit down under a tree and read. For the first time in your entire life something clicks, and you're excited about the future.

 Root isn't in the living room when you get back, and for a second you assume she's gone out on a machine mission, but then you spot her laptop abandoned on the kitchen counter. Next to it is a long forgotten cupcake, with four candles on top of it. You smile and grab the cupcake, then go and hunt down Root, who is lounging in an overly bubbly bath, drinking a glass of whiskey. She cracks one eye open and grins upon spotting you,

"Wasn't sure if you'd be home tonight, have a nice day?" you nod sit down on the floor next to her, handing her the lighter so she can light the candles. You make a wish when you blow them out, and even though the cupcake is stale you still eat the whole thing. She pulls a hand out of the tub and lets it dry for a couple minutes before running it through your hair.

"Do you want to get in Sam? It's still warm," you look up at her, expecting her usual innuendo or suggestive facial expression but come up empty. Her eyes are closed and her hair is pulled back and she just looks so tired. She opens her eyes and smirks,

"See something you like?" there it is. But it sounds so forced and it just makes you worry more because usually these kinds of things roll off her tongue. You play along and give her an eye roll, which she simply chuckles at before closing her eyes again.

A few hours later, Root wanders into the bedroom looking like an emaciated ghost. She plops down next to you on the bed and literally pulls you to her, a feat of strength that you'd never thought you'd see from her. You laugh a bit and turn to face her,

"Miss me?" she doesn't say anything, just pulls you in closer. You lay there silently, wondering when she's going to tell you just how bad this whole Samaritan situation is. 

* * *

It takes four months for the world to end, and you stand practically on the sidelines for the entire thing. Samaritan takes Reese, hides him in some testing facility, and when he returns he's a shell of a person. You had wanted it to be you, you had tried to be the one to go for the switch in the elevator, but a prick to your neck from Root had prevented you. You stopped talking to her when they took Reese, moved into the library, fought side by side with her but never said a word. She thought it would change when Reese returned but you still have the nagging feeling that it should have been you and not him. And then everything changes. Because suddenly you hear over the open line that Root's been shot, and as much as you want to roll your eyes because this happens all the time, Fusco sounds worried. You find her at the hospital and she looks frail and broken, her vitals are shit, and for the first time in your entire life you're afraid. 

You sit by her side for two weeks and wait. You eat next to nothing, you barely sleep, and the one time Finch tries to get you to go home you accidentally break his nose. You blame him and forgive him all at once, but then Root stirs and wakes up and looks at you and you forget all about him. She's exhausted, confused and clearly in a lot of pain. She squints when she looks at you and this weird warm twisted feeling bubbles up inside you, you try but you can't push it down, and when you hand her her glasses and she sees you and smiles, everything stops because she's alive. She winces and looks down at the lower left quadrant of her abdomen,

"You got shot Root. For real this time," you tell her. She nods slowly, trying to remember what's going on. Suddenly she looks alarmed and begins to try and get out of the bed. You grab her arms and keep her seated, shaking your head,

"We won. It's over," her face morphs into one of disbelief, and you watch her as you assume the machine relays to her what all went down while she was unconscious. She chuckles quietly and looks up at you,

"We lived," she whispers, you nod and sort of smile back at her because you're pretty shocked as well. She winces in pain again, but tugs your arm, pulling you onto the tiny bed with her. You rest your head on the shoulder of her good side, and reach over to increase her morphine drip, allowing her to fall back asleep. You close your eyes and rest for the first time in what feels like ages.

* * *

 September rolls around and you find yourself packing a backpack for school, an activity you haven't done since you were literally ten years old. Root is still recovering from that pesky gunshot wound, but you think she's faking half of it just so she can keep having the wicked pain drugs that she gets. You've moved back in for the most part, though sometimes you stay at the library because you need more time with Bear, she understands, you think. You walk into the bedroom to check her bandages one last time, but she pulls you onto the bed, resting your head on her chest as she runs her fingers over your scalp,

"Nervous?" you shake your head. It's school. School is easy. It has defined limits and rules and a set of information that you have to learn, it's made for you, there's a reason you excel. 

"I'm gonna be late though," you tilt your head towards her and she chuckles, releasing you. 

You fall into a routine quickly and easily, and you seem to be one of the only students who isn't completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of material being presented to you. It helps that you've already read half the books being assigned to you, but the material is also suited to you. Two months go by and you have your first exam, you pass with flying colours.

"Not bad Sameen," Root smirks, she had taken the paper from you when you got home, and you totally weren't trying to show it to her because you totally didn't care if she was proud of you. You shrug and grab it back from her, but smile again when you see the nice 98% scrawled across the top of the page. She walks back to the couch and pulls on her glasses, beginning to code again. You sigh and walk over, staring at her for a second. She gives you an amused smirk and moves her computer, patting her lap, where you take a seat. She begins coding again, but after she got shot she's become different than she used to be, she's not completely absorbed anymore. Every few minutes she drops a kiss to the top of your head, which you shake off every time, but you never leave. You used to like when she was barely human, but you think you like this version of her better now.

* * *

 "Clavulanic acid," you mumble over a mouthful food. The girl stares at you and nods in disbelief, you hadn't gotten one wrong yet. You wouldn't exactly call Gen your friend, but she seems to tolerate you enough, and isn't that annoying. Plus she likes to run through notecards with you and you think that's pretty fun, she's fascinated with your mind. Your phone buzzes, it's Root, and you swallow your giant bite of sandwich before picking up,

"Hey Sam, I need you to run by the library when you're done today, I left my laptop and I'm-" you hear someone groan in the background and roll your eyes, she's probably torturing someone,

"-not going to be home until late. Don't want to wake up and scare Harry," she sounds a bit maniacal, and you assume she's probably cutting someone. You hum in agreement and take another bite of your sandwich.

"Ok thanks Sameen, love you," she hangs up before you can respond, which is for the better because you start choking a little bit. She's said that before plenty but this time it was so casual, so much so that you almost just instinctively said it back. Gen is watching you with a smirk on her face,

"Who was that?"

"No one. Just Root." She raises an eyebrow,

"Who's Root?"

"No one." You take another bite out of your sandwich, and definitely don't think about how many minutes it's going to be until you get to see Root again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this chapter is scattered, I just had surgery so my mind is still definitely drugged, but I have big plans for the next chapter and I'm too excited so basically this came out of my brain. Apologies. If it's really god awful I will rewrite it, I just need my brain to rewire itself because I'm kind of all over the place. Also, prompt requests and beta and all that jazz welcome at pillsnchills.tumblr.com


	7. Stay Away From my Whiskey, Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 21. Also the moment you've all been patiently waiting for.

You stumble through the door covered in a mixture of your's and someone else's blood. You're sticky, hot, and you had an exam today that you probably got less than perfect on, so you're frustrated as all hell. All you want is an ice bath, for this rib that you've probably broken, but when you walk into the kitchen you see Root and you forget all about your pain. Because there she is, wearing this getup that involves a button down and a black tie, fiddling with a candlestick and a lighter and giving you that thing in your stomach that only she gives you. There's a bottle of wine on the table that she almost knocks over when she sees you,

"I got you a bottle of wine, now that you're legal and all," you both chuckle, and you eye the bottle of whiskey on top of the cabinet covered in post-its that say things like 'stay away from my whiskey Root' and 'I will literally gauge your eyes out with a spoon if you finish this'. Root finds the notes endearing, and you're not sure if it's because she thinks you're kidding or because she knows that you're not. You take a seat next to her and she opens the bottle, pouring you a glass and handing it off. She's so close to your face that she practically speaks into your mouth,

"Happy Birthday, Sameen," you find yourself kind of gasping, and then covering it up with a swig of wine. It tastes expensive and way too fancy for your taste, but it goes perfectly with the cupcake that Root hands you. You put down your glass to take the cupcake out of Roots hand, and for some reason that you cannot even fathom, your other hand shoots out and yanks her tie, pulling her face an inch away from yours. Her eyes do that thing where she looks like she's about to literally devour you, and you're frozen for a second,

"So it's that kind of party?" she raises an eyebrow and your trance is broken, you let go and jam your feet into the ground as hard as you can to push your chair back, keeping your eyes wide and on her.

"I... I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that," she responds by leaning dangerously far back in her chair, and slowly sipping her wine. Her lips are tinted a slightly redder red from it, and it gives her just an extra bit of edge on her usual manic look. Lately you've been gasoline, and any time Root touches you you're afraid it will be just enough spark to cause you to explode. Maybe that's what you want, and maybe it's not, your brain gets foggy around her sometimes, even after five entire years of living with her. Your body reacts before your brain, and you find yourself climbing onto Root's chair and straddling her lap, facing her. You reach down and fiddle with her tie gently, allowing a distraction for both your hands and your eyes.

"Something you'd like to tell me Sam?" she's smirking again and you just shrug, because there probably is but you don't really know what to say or even where to begin. Because it's Root. Root who wakes up early to make you breakfast, and who breaks into college bookstores to steal textbooks for you, and who has a tiny breakable body that she throws around every day to keep the world safe but still comes home to pin your stupid exams up on the fridge. Root who kind of helped raise you and takes care of you and loves you and who you probably shouldn't be feeling these... things for, but you're pretty sure that she feels them too. You let out a sigh and shake your head, because if you told her all of that it would probably be more words than you'd used total in the last five years, and she might have a heart attack and die. You drop your forehead to her sternum and she plants a couple of kisses on the top of your head, which you instinctively shake off. 

"I love you too Sam," she chuckles, and you roll your eyes because it's not really that simple. You find yourself winding her tie around your wrist, once, twice, three times, and when you look up her nose is right against yours. She studies your face for a second and you're pretty sure she's probing your brain; you're suddenly so aware of how she smells and how close she is, and you can practically taste the wine on her breath and if you don't get more you might die. So you take more. And in this moment you realize just how right you were, because kissing Root is the exact spark you needed to detonate. You pull her tie harder and try and get closer so you can take more and more, but you feel two taps on your shoulder. You immediately release her and lean back, panting and panicking,

"I just need to be able to breathe tonight, this though," she pulls off the tie, grinning, "we'll play with another night," she gives you a wink and you ignore her because if you don't start kissing her again you're going to die. Root is everywhere and then some, and even if you have no idea what you're doing really, she more than makes up for it. She picks you up and shoves you onto the kitchen table, dishes flying off and shattering, she doesn't bat an eyelash, well, until the wine bottle slips to the ground and explodes.

"That was like 75 dollars worth of wine,"

"Did you pay for it?"

"Well... Not exactly," you smile and roll your eyes and go back to kissing her because of course she stole you good wine, and of course it has now forever marred the damn rug that she insisted you put in the kitchen. None of it matters a second after though, because she's back to touching you and whispering silly things in your ear, and then she's inside of you and you're coming on the kitchen table over and over again and your whole world is flipped on it's back.

* * *

 The thing is, you know this is a bad idea. Everything has been kept under wraps for four months, and you know it's best that way, so yeah, making out in the library is a bad idea, even if Finch is out on a walk with Bear. Unfortunately, you can't really voice this opinion, or at least you can't make yourself want to, because Root is shoving her tongue down your throat and you're not worried enough to stop her. You're still working on being able to control, or even feel, your body when Root is kissing or touching you, and you know that Root loves that. She picks you up and kind of accidentally but not really slams your back against the wall; you react by clamping your legs around her, pulling her in closer and supporting your weight between the wall and her hips. You don't think you'll ever be able to get close enough though, there are times where you imagine peeling off her skin and crawling inside of her, but even that probably wouldn't be enough. Both of your shirts make their way to the floor, and you thread your hands through her hair as she bites down on your shoulder. 

"Ms. Groves, I'm glad you're here, I wanted to talk to you abou-" oh boy, this should be fun. Root, upon hearing Finch's voice, turns to face him without thinking.

"Wait Root no," as soon as she turns, you lose the leverage you had against the wall and drop unceremoniously to the ground. Root pivots again and turns to see you on the ground, before bursting out laughing.

"Sorry Sam, didn't think that through," you roll your eyes and reach for your shirt, tossing her her's as well. You remember that Finch is standing there and you look up to see that he looks as if he's seen a ghost. He's pale and gaping, but in a matter of seconds his expressions shifts and he looks like he's going to murder someone. Probably Root, who simply shrugs and smiles, skipping out of the room with him hot on her trail. You groan as you stand up, the fall had been short but your tailbone took the brunt of it and you fully expected it to bruise. You overhear Finch and Root arguing and decide that taking Bear home to snuggle on the couch is probably the best option for you.

Root returns home around 2am, and manages to squeeze herself onto the couch with you and Bear. There definitely isn't enough space, and you can't really breathe, so you only stay for about minute before getting up.

"I'm gonna take him back, he's not supposed to sleep here," Root nods and gives him a pat on the head.

When you arrive at the library, Finch is waiting for you, he knew you'd be back. You hand him Bear's leash and turn on your heel, but he taps you on the shoulder before you can leave. You huff and turn around, looking at him expectantly,

"Stop worrying about what I get up to Finch,"

"It's not you I worry about Ms. Shaw," he purses his lips slightly and you turn to walk out the door.

The whole way home you fume because you honestly don't know if Finch worries about Root because he actually cares about her or because he's afraid of her. You assume it's the latter, and you can't explain why it makes your blood boil but boy does it. You slam the door when you're home, waking a startled Root who instinctively points a gun at you. She squints for a second and takes a deep breath when she realizes it's you. You smirk, but you're actually glad she has the reaction, it makes you think she may actually be able to take care of herself. She sits up and frowns, reaching next to her and picking up a pair of crushed glasses that she rolled over onto while sleeping. Again.

"Fuck.." you smile a bit wider and run into the bedroom, reaching in the drawer labelled 'backup glasses' (this isn't her first pair of smashed frames) and grabbing her yet another pair that she'll probably destroy. She pulls you onto her lap when you hand them to her, 

"What do you say we finish what we started earlier today?" she whispers, already beginning to assault your neck with her mouth. You smile and give in, pulling yourself closer,

"Root?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why didn't the machine tell you Finch was coming in earlier?" She pulls back and gives you a devious smile,

"She did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, on top of surgery I also moved across the country so everything in my entire brain has turned to scrambled eggs. Let me know what y'all think. And come talk to me at pillsnchills.tumblr.com because I need to pretend to have friends. Also, the olympics have begun, so tbh I can't even think about anything else until the gymnastics are over.


	8. Six Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw turns 22. There is a lot of fluff in this chapter.

It's cold when you wake up, and darker than usual. You know Root hasn't come back yet, but you reach to her side of the bed anyways, only feeling slightly disappointed when you hand touches nothing but the sheets. You sit up and rub your eyes, peering out the window to see that it's pouring before pulling yourself out of bed and into the kitchen. You brew some coffee and throw six candles into your backpack, changing into your scrubs and throwing on Root's jacket before heading for the hospital.

Third year has been double the fun of first and second, because they're finally letting you into the hospital. You don't really get to do that much, but it definitely beats sitting still in class all day. You answer your attending's questions quickly and correctly, and though he'll never say it, you can tell that he knows you're going to be a great doctor. 

Lunchtime rolls around and you sit down with Gen, pulling out the candles you packed with you and placing them on the muffin (or at least that's probably what this weird hard pastry like thing is) that you bought in the cafeteria.

"What's with the candles?" you shrug.

"It's my birthday," you pull out a lighter.

"Are you turning 6....?" she asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut and make a wish before blowing out the candles. You don't answer her question, instead you attempt to bite into the muffin, but soon realize it's going to crack at least four of your teeth. 

Reese is waiting by your bike at the end of your day when you go to unlock it.

"Ever consider a bike with gears Shaw?" he smiles and you just roll your eyes.

"Wouldn't be stimulating enough." You're exhausted, and you just want to go home and call Root, even though she won't answer. Instead, Reese tosses you a set of keys and you just cock an eyebrow as he points to a Ferrari in the parking lot you assume is for a mission. You re-lock your bike and definitely don't run to the car and jump in the passenger seat and rev the engine a few times.

You follow Reese's directions, and you end up at a fancy restaurant.

"There's a dress in the back Shaw, get changed." You do as you're told while Reese stands guard outside the car. When you emerge, Reese takes your arm and leads you into the restaurant, where you're surprised to see Finch, Fusco and Zoe all at a table. Suddenly it clicks, and you look up at Reese, who responds with a shrug and a coy smile as you take your seat at the table.

"Happy birthday Ms. Shaw," Finch says.

"Can I keep the car?"

"Definitely not," you frown but they feed you all the expensive steak and wine that you can eat (which is a lot), before closing out the night with a chocolate cupcake with six candles. You make your second wish of the day. It's the same as the first.

You arrive home to find that there is a massive pile of boxes outside the door, with a single postcard (because Root is the kind of nerd that would send a postcard) laid on top.

_Happy 22nd birthday Sam. I miss you, hopefully I'll be back soon. Love, Root._

* * *

 It's just past midnight and you're exhausted, which means you are  _not_ in the mood for this number's sassy behaviour. You quickly ziptie his hands behind his back and duct tape his mouth, dragging him out of the room by his ear.

"I had to give twenty prostate exams today, do you know what that's like?" you mumble, and he frantically shakes his head, his cries muffled by the duct tape.

"Let me tell you. It's not fun, especially when you're a young girl. So you're going to follow me and do as I say, silently, because I am actually here to help," he nods again and follows more compliantly. When you exit the building, you see a soot covered Reese, who is smirking ever so slightly. You roll your eyes and shove the tied up man towards Reese, who just picks him up and throws him over his shoulder as you two walk back to the car. As the car comes into view though, your eyes widen and you have to blink a few times because there's a tall, noodley figure in black leaning casually against the door. You're not really sure what overcomes you, but suddenly you're sprinting full force at the car, and jumping into Root's arms. She holds you close (really only being able to do so because her back is braced against the side of the car) and you pull her into a searing kiss. You thread your hands through her hair and sigh happily because it's been six months since you've seen her, and yet she still tastes and feels exactly the  same.

"I missed you," she whispers into your ear, and you shrug but give her a lightning fast smile. Reese and the number eventually catch up and you all pile into the car, where once again Root pulls you into her lap.

"I urge you to wear a seatbelt Ms. Shaw, the dangers of the road are unpredictable," Finch says from the drivers seat, eyeing the empty middle seat next to you and Root.

"That can be arranged Harry," Root slides her arms around you and pulls you in closer. You barely even register that there are others in the car as you bury your face into the crook of Root's next and try and breathe in as much as you can. She smells like sweat and airplane and gunpowder and exhaustion, and you don't think you'll ever be able to get enough. Her hot, wet tears drip down onto the top of your head, and you find yourself trying to fuse yourself to her.

"Careful," she chastises as she taps your hands, you let go just before you can accidentally rip a hole through her shirt from gripping too tightly. Finch is looking straight ahead, biting his tongue because you know he wants to scold you both. Reese though, he's got a slight smile, and he kicks the back of the number's seat as hard as he can when he sees the guy is about to say something.

Root fucks you for hours that night, taking her time and leaving you a spent and sweaty pile of skin and bones. Your whole body is numb by the time she's decided you've had enough, and somehow you muster up the will to roll over to her.

"Where did you go?" she shrugs in response.

"Everywhere. A lot had to be done," she runs her fingers through your hair and your eyes slip shut.

"Maybe not so long next time?" you mumble, moving your head so that her fingers are hitting the right spot.

"It's ok to say you missed me you know," she chuckles and you don't have to energy to bicker. A soft kiss is placed on your forehead, and if you weren't already asleep you definitely would have shaken it off. 

* * *

 

"But I don't want my own."

"Sam that's ridiculous, the jacket doesn't even fit you."

"I like it."

"Fine I'll just order myself ano--"

"NO!" you're not really sure where that came from, or why you even care so much, but Root raises an eyebrow and flicks your ear before pulling you closer to roll up the sleeves of her jacket that you're wearing.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, you have your final third year evaluation today, which involves an oral and practical exam.

"I don't get nervous," which is true, you've never really felt nervous before. Besides, you're good at this kind of thing, you work extremely well under pressure (hello, your side job involves diffusing bombs and shooting kneecaps) and you love learning and applying what you're learned. Root just shrugs and gives you an antagonizing look.

"I'm just as smart as you, you know," you give her a pointed glare.

"Oh sweetie, you're much smarter than me," you roll your eyes and she tosses you a power bar before you head out the door.

Gen is sweating a lot when you get to the hospital, and you just laugh at her and roll your eyes. She overthinks these kind of things, and she's a terrible speaker because she spends all her time spying on people and trying not to be seen or heard. But alas, you both prevail and when she comes back into the locker room at the end of the day (still really sweaty, what's with that?), she grabs your arm.

"Let's go drinking Shaw," you jerk your arm away but nod and send Finch a quick message to tell him you're off the clock before following her to the nearest bar. Where you stay for way too long and get way too drunk. By the time it's midnight, Gen is 8 cosmos in, and you've had more whiskey than you've ever had in your life. You let a smile creep across your face as you sway to the music in your seat; you really want to go home and make out with Root, but then again, you always want to go home and make out with Root. Gen walks up to the bar to order another drink but you grab her wrist and shake your head,

"You've probably had enough, and I'm pretty tired," she pouts at you but concedes, following you out into the street. The air is so much cooler than inside, and you have to take a moment to relish in it, but are quickly interrupted by Gen.

"I live SO far away," she whines. You sigh and roll your eyes,

"You can stay with me tonight I guess," she grins and follows you home. When you get back, Root is still awake, busy at work on her computer. She doesn't even notice you two come in until Gen blurts out,

" _That's_ Root?" you give her a confused look and she looks mesmerized.

"She's so pretty.." she says quietly, and you just kind of raise an eyebrow because Root is essentially wearing a full sweatsuit, she has her hair in that weird top bun thing that you can never make your own hair do, and she's wearing her worst glasses. You still think she's drop dead gorgeous but are surprised to see Gen does too. Root gives her a lewd smirk and you roll your eyes and lead Gen to the couch, Root picks up her things and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead before heading into the bedroom. Gen lays down on the couch and you grab her and yourself a glass of water and some advil for the morning.

"So you can uh, just sleep here I guess," she looks up at you, confused,

"Where will you sleep though?" and you share her confusion.

"Um, in my room, in my bed," you point to the bedroom door. Her eyes widen and she almost giggles,

"With  _her?_ Is she your  _girlfriend?_ Isn't she like way older than you?" and all you can do is groan because this is so not the conversation you want to have right now. So you don't. You just shake your head and hope that Gen isn't nearly this curious in the morning. Given that she's already snoring, you doubt she will be. As soon as you step into your room though, all thoughts about Gen and what you and Root really are cease, because Root is naked and beckoning you over with her finger and if you don't touch her you're going to die.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been ages. I haven't been ignoring this story, I've just finished moving and I'm kind of struggling because I'm really lonely in this city. Let me know what you think, and if you want to read geeky little head cannons I have, check out pillsnchills.tumblr.com bc I post all sorts of mini drabbles on there. Btw, I wrote some Root POV things. Check it out to kind of piece together things, bc the next thing I write will be her POV.


	9. Root Tastes Better Anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23, you know how it goes

"No Root, this is definitely the worst mission you've dragged me on," you huff and lean your forehead against the glass of the car window. All you can see is cornfields, literal cornfields, for miles and miles and miles. Reese is asleep in the back next to you, Finch and Root have been bickering in the front seats for hours. You barely listen, and even when you do only half of what they say ever makes sense because neither of them lets the other finish their sentence. The car pulls into a gas station and you get out immediately to stretch your legs, Root handing you a few dollars to go grab a snack. 

"You have a nice day pretty girl," the cashier gives you a creepy smile and you cringe, less at his overall creepiness and more at his accent. The drawl is painful, and you're astonished that people actually are physically capable of speaking that slowly, and sounding that stupid. When you get back to the car, you toss a bag of beef jerky at Reese, and hand Root an apple. Finch clears his throat dramatically, and  you cock your eyebrow, meeting his eyes with your own for a few seconds before reluctantly handing him his stupid tea.

"Please tell me this one will be short Finch, I can feel myself losing brain cells in this podunk town." Hughes, Arkansas. You knew objectively that places like this existed, but actually being confronted with one was different. Texas was one thing, the true deep south was a whole different ball game.

"Well Ms. Shaw, it may be wiser to ask Ms. Groves, she is the analogue interface after all, she'd know better than I do," you roll your eyes at this response, Finch has been more bitter than usual lately, and you're positive it has to do with the fact that The Machine still whispers in Root's ear despite the fact that there has been very little actual activity required in the field lately. He's jealous, and it's endlessly pleasing to you.

"Three days max, Sam." Root plants a kiss on the top of your head, which you shake off, and herds everyone back into the car.

A few hours later you find yourself in a grimy motel room, carefully wrapping furniture in cling wrap before putting your things down on it. Root laughs at you like you're ridiculous, but also waits to touch anything until you're done.

"You always do go the extra mile don't you Sameen," and she has the audacity to roll her eyes like she actually would touch anything in this room. You raise an eyebrow and change into sweats, laying on the bed and trying not to groan too much because you're exhausted and the roadtrip with the boys almost killed you. Root begins to join you, but suddenly her eyes light up and she bolts out of the room. When she returns, she fishes through her backpack, pulling out seven candles and a lighter. She places the candles on the newly purchased (from a vending machine, sketchy) but definitely expired Hostess cupcakes.

"Happy 23rd Sam, I love you." You roll your eyes but make a wish anyways before blowing out the candles. You take one bite of the cupcake and decide in that moment that you'd rather not spend the night vomiting, plus, Root tastes better anyways.

* * *

 

"Sameen Shaw." 

You hear your name and walk across the stage, eagerly clutching your new degree as it's handed to you. The wait for everyone else to receive theirs is agonizing, but you're happy your name is near the end of the alphabet. Gen is the last person to receive hers, with a last name like Zhirova, you're pretty sure she's used to the wait. After you're all dismissed, you give her a brief hug and she makes you promise you'll go out with her to celebrate later this week.

You spot Reese first as you make your way off the stage, totally not tripping over your lab coat (newly adorned with Sameen Shaw M.D. might you add) because there's no way that an extra small is too big for you. He gives you a high five and pulls you into a hug that you definitely don't return. Finch follows suit, but his hug is predictably stiffer and more uncomfortable than Reese's. Fusco beams at you, but tries to play it cool, acting like he's excited by a nearby dog and not like you becoming a doctor is something he would even care about.

"Where's Root?" you ask, trying not to sound concerned, and Fusco just nods his head over to the sea of white lawn chairs, where you spot her lanky figure doubled over in her seat. You make your way over to her and gently tap her on the shoulder, laughing a bit when she looks up and you notice she's surrounded by tissues and her makeup is almost completely gone.

"Shut up," she says, then lightly punches your arm. You both stay silent for a minute, staring each other down to see who will crack first. It's her of course. You're Sameen Shaw. You don't lose.

"I'm proud of you nerd," she smiles the biggest smile you've ever seen before pulling you down into her lap, where you both make out for an inappropriate amount of time. You hear a bit of commotion going on behind you, apparently some scandalized grandma has fainted, you don't care. You shove your tongue further down Root's throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short I'm sorry. I have better plans for the next chapter. Also, I'm from Hughes AR, so no need to tell me not everyone in the deep south is stupid, I just love writing about home lol. Apologies for the lowkey hiatus. I've been trying to juggle mono (did you know you can get that when you're not 16???), absurd amounds of PhD stuff, and my wonderful girlfriend who is the single most supportive human on this planet (hi I love you). As always, come talk to me at pillsnchills.tumblr.com, and let me know if you think this is a garbage chapter (:


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